Aleksander: Becoming the Darkling
by wearylily
Summary: The Darkling was once a thirteen-year-old boy who promised to make the world safe enough for Grisha so that they could be seen as Ravkan and not just Grisha. Set in between that and the events of the Grisha Trilogy, this is the tale of Aleksander, two Lantsov siblings, and the very beginning of "The Darkling". **WARNING: eventual boyxboy slash. Aleksander(The Darklingl)xOC
1. Chapter 1: Alone and Used to It

**A/N: Okay, so this is my first fanfic. But I'm excited to see how this goes, and I would really appreciate feedback! Also, I'm going to say this again, there will be an eventual slash boyxboy pairing. Thanks, and here's the story!**

The boy's hair was finally its natural black again. He had dyed it blond for the month before his current identity, and reddish brown for a few weeks before that.

It had been far too long since he had felt even remotely like himself. If he even knew what that meant anymore. All his life he had donned different disguises and claimed quite the collection of false names. Identities that weren't his swirled around in his head. It was a miracle he even remembered the name he had been born with or the hair color his thick mop took when left alone.

At the moment, Aleksander was truly alone. He had parted ways with his mother for the second long-lasting time three years ago. The first time they had done this, it had been because together they often drew unwanted attention to themselves. Separately, it was so much easier for each of them to blend in.

The moderately wealthy Ravkan family he was working for knew him to be Iliya, an orphaned Grisha with an unusual talent for controlling darkness. Little did they know just quite how powerful his unique ability was. And that was the way he had intended for it to remain.

But it hadn't mattered in the end. The middle-aged man drank vigorously, and his wife had a bitter temper. They had two spoiled teenage brats who preferred to pretend that Iliya did not exist rather than spare him the physical abuse their parents gave him. Aleksander had never been in such a situation. He would use the Cut to kill them all and get away, but the clever daughter had discovered that he needed his hands, and they were now kept constantly bound.

He had sought this family out with easy work and easy escape in mind. He never would've predicted that they hated Grisha so much that they would use his abilities to mock him. The torture he endured daily had been unimaginable before this.

Today had been different. The son had slapped him awake and dragged him to the room in which the family greeted guests. Aleksander had only been there several times before. The first time, he had been the guest they were greeting. A few times after that, he had been dragged there by his "masters and mistresses" to impress guests with his abilities. He showed them the tricks he had learned as little more than an infant. The simple-minded people oohed and ahhed, and he saved energy.

They could break his body all they pleased. Aleksander healed quickly, and his spirit would never be broken by ignorant fools. They had been given less than a taste of what he was capable of, but he would give them quite a show the moment he had proper use of his hands again.

"Iliya," began Boris, the man of the house, "We have two very important guests joining us today. Crown Prince Sasha and Princess Natalie of Ravka are spending the night here opon their way back to Os Alta. They have been in Shu Han for the past fortnight, and we will provide relaxing entertainment and shelter for our royalty." The man oozed self-indulgent pride.

Considering the Berdichevski family estate's location just outside of Poliznaya, it did make sense that the royal siblings would seek them out on a return journey from Ravka's southern neighbor. Aleksander couldn't help but wonder if the two were aware of "Iliya's" presence. How did they view Grisha? In recent years, the powerful individuals have been receiving more attention than usual, of both the positive and negative variety.

Boris's wife was called Inna, and she was prone to random and unnecessary violence. For example, she stormed into the room, clearly stressed, and dragged Aleksander to where she intended to sit by his bound wrists. They all knew that he hated any kind of discomfort anywhere near his arms and hands.

Maria and Stepan, the two teenage brats, snickered lightly, but otherwise they paid him no attention.

Aleksander had changed since he had been thirteen years old and betrayed. That had been one of the rare, rare times he tried to show himself to others. Even his own kind had either feared his abilities or wanted him as an amplifier for their own. Lev and Annika had been proof of that. He had sympathized with a girl trying to protect her family. In fact, he had offered to protect them for her. But she had tried to take his life in order to do the protecting herself. At least Lev hadn't tried to hide his violent intentions. After nearly dying, Aleksander had vowed to make the world a better place for Grisha. But he had learned that that was easier said than done. It would take lifetimes to accomplish such a thing. But he had lifetimes. Eventually, he stopped aging. Aleksander would look about nineteen years old until someone killed him. Or until he killed himself, but he was stronger than that.

The Berdichevskis ignored Aleksander for the rest of the day. This was good, because he received no more physical, mental, or emotional torment. Unfortunately, nor was he given food. He was simply locked in the cellar with his hands bound.

At some point, he heard the sound of several carriages approaching the estate. Loud voices and laughter soon followed. After at least half an hour had passed, Aleksander saw the familiar sight of the cellar door opening. It was time for the evening's entertainment.

Stocky Stepan, as Aleksander thought of him, was the one to fetch him. "Do not speak unless spoken to," the boy reminded him irritably. Or perhaps he was perfectly happy. It was so hard to tell with that one; he always sounded and looked as if he had just missed the best day of his life.

For a moment, Aleksander wondered if the visiting royalty would care that his once-flawless face was now bruised. Then the moment passed, and the boy wanted to laughter out loud at his own foolishness. He had learned years ago that no one truly cared about him. No one had ever even met the real him except his mother, and she was hardly an ideal example of a tender, loving parent. No, the prince and Princess wouldn't care. They would most likely laugh right along with Boris and Inna.

**A/N/: And that's a wrap for today! Again I would really appreciate reviews! Thanks for reading :D**


	2. Chapter 2: His Lovely Darkness

**A/N: Thanks to the two lovely reviews I got. You know who you are ;) I'm uploading this next chapter insanely quickly. Let me know what you think :D**

Stepan blindfolded Aleksander, claiming that the accursed Grisha wasn't "worthy enough to witness the royal splendor of Ravka's crown prince and princess." The boy grit his teeth and bitterly accepted that his dream of being seen as Ravkan as well as Grisha was still a long way off.

The stocky brunette forced Aleksander onto his knees when they reached the room in which the family greeted guests. He bowed his head before the boy could do it for him.

"Who is this, Boris?" inquired a silky male voice that Aleksander assumed must belong to Prince Sasha.

Hurrying to answer his prince, Boris replied eagerly, "This is no one, Prince Sasha. Merely a lowly orphan. But he does have some entertaining abilities."

There was a brief silence, during which the boy began to lose feeling in his legs.

"Take his blindfold off," the prince finally declared. Aleksander felt the coarse fabric slip from around his eyes. He blinked away the blurriness of his sight before focusing on the two figures directly in front of him.

Princess Natalie had curly dark golden hair that reached her elbows and pale turquoise blue eyes. Her skin was white from lack of exposure to sunlight. She looked to be about fourteen years old. Velvets and silks surrounded her, almost completely concealing the dress that matched her eyes. Jewels glimmered from her ears and around her neck. Aleksander's slate gray eyes met hers, and she looked away guiltily.

Seated to her right was Prince Sasha. His hair was the same shade as his sister's, though his was slicked back, almost reaching his shoulders. His skin was fair and smooth-the glimmer of wealth. He seemed to be perhaps a year older than his sister. But what really drew Aleksander's attention were his eyes. He had never seen anything like them before and he never would after. The Crown Prince of Ravka had eyes an unnatural bright green. They shone fiercely, and he was certainly right to base his wardrobe off of the assumption that they were his most eye-catching feature.

Princess Natalie made emphatic eye contact with her brother. "You know what I'm going to do. Will you help me?" She looked pointedly towards the bruised boy at their feet.

Sighing resignedly, Prince Sasha glared at Boris and Inna, as if blaming them for some horrible event that had not yet taken place. "Go ahead."

Within a moment, the Ravkan princess was kneeling at eye-level with Aleksander. She tilted his head to better see his cuts and bruises. The Berdichevskis had avoided injuring him too seriously, for they did value his ability to entertain guests and make the estate a popular social scene.

"Did they do this to you?" the blond asked quietly. At his hesitation, she smiled gently and whispered, "I want to help. But I need you to tell me the truth."

Aleksander nodded, hoping he wouldn't regret it. That slight movement of his head was an unforgivable betrayal of the family who held complete power over him.

The princess stood and murmured to her brother. Prince Sasha's green gaze met Aleksander's sleet gray stare, and neither could look away.

The Berdichevski family, meanwhile, was growing uneasy. They wanted nothing more than to just lock Iliya away and punish him later, forget that blasted idea of entertainment, but they would not dare interrupt the royal siblings who were currently fascinated by the Grisha boy.

Prince Sasha was the one to approach Aleksander this time. "Iliya, why do these people hurt you? They told us they were bringing in the entertainment when you were brought to us." His expectant demeanor demanded a response. The black-haired boy found himself desperate to supply one.

"I _am _the entertainment. When I came to them, looking for a job, I had no idea they were so prejudiced," he whispered to the golden prince on his knees.

Glancing at Boris and his family warily Prince Sasha asked, "What can you do that they bind your hands to prevent? My sister and I will help you, but we need you to answer: Are you a Grisha?"

The most that Aleksander could manage as a response was to nod his head ever so slightly, so that no one but the prince, who was looking for it, would notice.

The green-eyed prince calmly plucked a small, but sharp, knife from his left brown leather boot. In one precise movement, the blond sliced through Aleksander's bindings and returned the knife to its convenient hiding place.

"_Moi tsarevich_, are you certain that removing that wretch's bindings is wise? He can kill us all and esc-...run... if he is allowed free use of his hands..." Brave Inna trailed off as she witnessed the unthinkable happen: Princess Natalie, darling of Ravka, was offering a hand to the boy kneeling in front of her.

After his sister's cold glare, Prince Sasha hurried to do the same. Aleksander's heart was beating out of his chest as Ravka's (the country that he had once desired nothing more than to be considered a part of) royalty showed respect to him as a person.

Not that it really means anything, he forced himself to remember. They could do and say what they liked now and here, but how they would treat him in front of people who actually mattered would be a completely different thing. If there was one thing he had learned after all his years of existence, it was not to trust anyone completely. He had the art of reading people and their intentions nearly mastered. Using others for his own purposes had become second nature. Setting aside emotions was a technique he had mastered long ago.

"Can you show us what you can do that makes them afraid of you?" the blond prince inquired.

Though it was a darkly bitter one, Aleksander grinned for the first time in weeks. "I'll show you what makes _everyone _afraid of me."

The Berdichevskis had been slowly backing away, as if they had hoped he would forget about him once he was out of their sight. They were complete fools if they fancied he had the mental strength of an infant.

Standing, he raised a hand and summoned the darkness to him. It was such a relief to be able to use his power freely at long last. The tendrils of pure dark snatched the now running family and dragged them back to Aleksander and his royal audience.

Being the clever genius he always had been, Aleksander knew just which one of them to kill as a warning to the rest. The Cut lashed out at Stepan, and he was dead instantly. Cut right in half at the stomach.

He had his lovely darkness overwhelm the others and knock then out. They would wake up in a few hours perfectly fine.

Prince Sasha and Princess Natalie, however, were different matters. He couldn't kill them. Injuring them, even, was a terrible idea. But what didn't make any sense to him at all, though he was unsure why he was bothering to even wonder at this particular moment in time, was the fact that the royal siblings had been in here alone.

When he voiced his concerns out loud, the two looked at each other. They were clearly having a silent conversation. It ended abruptly when Princess Natalie stepped forward and said, "We do not fear you. Though the Berdichevskis punished you for simply existing, I nor my brother could ever do such a thing. If you are looking for a place to go, in fact, we could use your extraordinary abilities at the palace. You pointed it out yourself: We have, frankly, a desperate need of better guards." She smiled at the end of her little speech. Prince Sasha seemed to be worried that he would accept. Well, there was no need for that, because he had never planned to accept. He had served this family miserably, and no matter how much this princess claimed that hers was "different", he knew the truth. Maybe his powers as a Grisha would be considered new and exciting at first. But as they witnessed his intense control and realized his immortality, they would see the danger in being anywhere near him.

He would seek out his mother. Their disagreement had been years ago, and he had had enough of being on his own for the moment. These two would move on with their lives and forget about him.

"Come, Natalie," Prince Sasha intoned in a bored manner.

The princess in question, however, glared at her brother, both hurt and offended. "I am not a dog!" she exclaimed. "And you, brother dear, are supposed to be helping me. That is what you promised on the way here, is it not?"

Aleksander noticed that he was about the same height as the prince when they were both standing. The princess, on the other hand, was depressingly short. He felt for her, he really did. He remembered being young, and how difficult it was to appear intimidating without showing his hand.

"Iliya, " Prince Sasha began, "It really would be best if you come with us. The Fjerdans have heard rumors about you. The real reason we stopped here at all has been so we might see if the stories are true. And indeed they are. If you do not join us on our journey to Os Alta, the others seeking you out will find you. The other summoner of darkness, at least, has had the sense to keep her head down and wait."

So they knew about him and his mother. That was fine. Baghra could take care of herself. But Aleksander, meanwhile, would be working on his new plan. The one he had been formulating fervently for the past ten minutes.

"I will go to Os Alta with you," he told them.

**A/N: What is Aleksander up to? He's a very difficult character to understand the thought process of, even if it is his POV :D**


	3. Chapter 3: Sullen Dead Air

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this update out, but life happens, and I wanted to write this chapter properly. None of this has been edited in detail, though I do skim for glaring errors. I'll correct anything you point out to me. I will update when I can, but I will never abandon this story. I love reviews, from members or not! Thanks for reading and enjoy!**

* * *

ALEKSANDER'S POV

Aleksander found himself almost (but not quite, for he prided himself on his ever-alert nature) in a daze as Princess Natalie Lantsov linked arms with him and glared pointedly at Prince Sasha.

It had not escaped the Grisha's notice that whenever the sister gave that look to the brother, he was almost sure to acquiesce to her silent request. This time was no different, resulting in the Ravkan prince approaching Aleksander from his right side as the princess's grip on his left arm tightened. He found himself gazing curiously at the sullen boy.

As the prince and princess led him away from the Berdichevski estate and towards his new and promising plan, he couldn't help but remember that while they both looked younger than him then, soon they would be old and withered while he went on. Far older in reality, but never aging and never dying. Aleksander would look the same in one hundred years as he did now, which was how he looked one hundred years ago.

* * *

NATALIE'S POV

The carriage ride was terribly uncomfortable at first. Perhaps her "genius" seating plan idea hadn't been quite as brilliant as she'd thought. But she _had _been absolutely certain that having Iliya sit across from the two royal siblings would have been worse. That would have practically stated loud and clear that the two of them thought that they were better than him and wanted to know it. She didn't want him believing that he was meant to stay separate from them. And if Natalie had had the older boy sit next to her, that would call into question whether her brother really wanted Iliya there. He very likely didn't, but the Grisha didn't need to know that. No, this was the only way she could have done it, even if it _was _miserably awkward.

Natalie sat straight and looked at the two boys across from her. They were seated at a polite distance from each other. She had made sure that Sasha knew not to openly distance himself from their guest. Sasha stared forward, but it was clear that he wasn't really _seeing _anything. While she knew that her brother was tense and alert, Iliya looked quite bored. Not impressed or excited or grateful or alert or tense or exhausted or anything else, just . . . _really bored_.

No one had said anything since they started moving, except for the time nearly an hour ago, right after they left, Natalie had asked Iliya if he would be okay until they had completed their journey to Os Alta. he had cleared his throat and declared himself to be fine. Sasha looked as if he was holding back a laugh at that. But she had imply nodded, and they had been silent as the grave ever since.

The minutes passed. This situation had to go. But how should she go about getting them all comfortable with each other? It wouldn't happen easily. And then Sasha's green gaze connected with her blue one, and almost instinctively, she glared at him. He seemed to take her glare as a sign that HE should be the one to rectify the dreadful scene. That was a scary thought indeed.

Sasha glanced at Iliya almost _uncertainly_. He then looked around, not making eye contact with Natalie, before asking, "So, Iliya, where are you from, then?" As an afterthought, he added, "If you don't mind my asking." Iliya looked over at her brother sharply. The slate gray eyes were narrowed, as if their owner were trying to see into Sasha's very soul.

"I'm not entirely sure where I'm from matters," he began, "especially considering that as I've traveled since my birth, I'm not even aware of the exact location of my birthplace." He looked at Sash, clearly awaiting a response.

"Oh," was her dear Sash's awaited _ever _sophisticated response.

Natalie resigned herself to several hours of painful, sullen dead air.

* * *

ALEKSANDER'S POV

Prince Sasha's forced attempt at polite, civil conversation was pitiful at best. Princess Natalie was clearly pained by it, and Aleksander couldn't blame her.

After a few hours more, they stopped and Natalie announced that they were changing horses and getting refreshments. The three stumbled out of the carriage somewhat gracefully, and Aleksander noted that the sun was going down. Sasha, as if in answer to his silent question, commented that the stop was made just an hour or two away from their final destination. It was an unnecessary stop, and yet one that was insisted upon by the older generation of the royal family.

Aleksander found himself in a corner of the lamp-lit building private to the Lantsovs alone with the green-eyed prince. Somehow the silence didn't feel as awkward then as it had in the carriage.

"I hate carriages," the prince said suddenly. Aleksander, his plan in mind, gave him his best "Go on," look.

Seemingly encouraged, the Ravkan boy continued, "I would describe myself as an alert person. And everything about carriages-the confinement, the small, cramped, and _limiting _space; the curtains; the noise-all of it is designed to keep the people trapped inside completely unaware of what's going on outside of the carriage, as well as utterly unable to do anything about it. I've always hated carriages for what they do to my nerves. You strike me as a generally alert person, and yet you seemed nigh on bored in that horrid contraption."

Aleksander tilted his head slightly. The smirk he felt creeping its way onto his face was one he welcomed home; he hadn't seen it in months. "You saw my power. We should all be pitying the poor souls to ambush any carriage with me inside it." Whether to prove his point, or simply for the sake of amusement, Aleksander couldn't tell, but he called the darkness of the shadows to him and sent it swirling at the golden-haired boy's hand resting on the table between them. Rather than leaping away in fear, he looked at it with _fascination_. He moved his hand experimentally, and the darkness caressed his skin gently. Aleksander wasn't rough. The world pushed him, and he pushed back.

Prince Sasha had struck Aleksander as a sullen, self-righteous sort of person, but perhaps there was more to him than that. Perhaps it was due to that sudden realization that he suddenly blurted out the story of the time when he was thirteen years old and too naïve to think that humans feared his power and other Grisha only wanted it for themselves. He had been betrayed by children he never should've let near him, let alone _trusted_. His own stupidity, even at such a young age, was what bothered him the most about the tale. He didn't care about the fact that he had been betrayed, not _really_, he cared that he had let people get close enough to cause him pain.

When relating the overview of this to the prince, he conveniently left out the part where he had looked thirteen years old over a hundred years ago.

"Iliya," the blond started slowly once Aleksander finished, "I can only imagine what your childhood was like. You are an incredibly strong person."

Aleksander stared at the young prince in amazement as the boy excused himself to check on the horses. He had asked "Iliya" to remain at the table with a few members of the Royal Guard, but the Grisha did not intend to start obeying orders now.

Using the skills of subtlety he had fine-tuned long ago, he followed Prince Sasha to the area they had left the carriage. Even as he desperately hoped that this would be a rare exception, Aleksander knew that when people tell someone to stay out somewhere, it's usually because they're hiding something.

Thee were Grisha tending to the horses. Aleksander had always been able to immediately recognize other members of his kind. A young girl and an even younger boy were leading the tired ones away as another pair brought in two fresh ones. A light-haired Grisha child was carrying an apple to give to one of the horses, when he tripped and dropped it. Prince Sasha caught the apple and steadied the boy. And then the silent onlooker felt his heart sink as an arrogant sneer came over the prince's face. He roughly shoved the boy to the ground and nudged him away with his foot. The other Grisha froze. After a cruel glare, they continued with their work, more quickly than before. They avoided eye contact and kept their heads down. The Ravkan prince fed the apple to the nearest horse and strode off, clutching the boy by his wrist and forcing him to follow.

Aleksander's mind was reeling. A thousand possible explanations rushed through his head, each less plausible and more desperate than the last. After what felt like hours, he realized that there are no excuses for causing the pain and terror of Grisha. Prince Sasha had been polite to him because of Princess Natalie.

* * *

The second carriage ride was even worse than the first. The blue-eyed princess once again attempted to start conversations, but soon trailed off as she realized that "Iliya" was studiously glaring out the window. The prince would look all around the carriage before his eyes would hesitantly come to rest on the dark-haired older boy beside him.

Aleksander was aware of Prince Sasha's looks at him, of course. He simply couldn't be bothered to care.

That's what he told himself, at least.

When they had finally reached the outskirts of Os Alta, Aleksander could tell that Princess Natalie was about to burst. She clearly wished to say something. He sighed. "Go ahead, Princess Natalie. Say what's on your mind."

She breathed out deeply, before beginning. "We have two other Grisha at the palace already. Not nearly as strong as you, of course," she paused to grin bash-fully before continuing, "but they've been training to hone their abilities. We do research, we figure out the scientific aspects of Grisha, and it shows in their training. We've seen definitive improvements! And you, you could be the key to it all! Your abilities are _extraordinary_, after all."

Aleksander nodded. "I suspected something akin to that"

* * *

OUTSIDE THIRD PERSON POV

Meanwhile, a note was being slipped in between the pages of a book. A solitary person carefully left said book in the hallway beside bedroom door of one of the Lantsov twins. A black feather was dropped onto the book before the mysterious figure darted away.

The note inside of the book read: _You know what I ask. An answer is expected by the end of the week._

And it was signed, _Barrels._

* * *

**A/N: So, any guesses as to which Lantsov sibling is being blackmailed? Do you like the characters so far? We haven't seen the last of the Berdichevski family... I'd love to hear your thoughts :)**


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